Earth Singer

CHAPTER EIGHT

'And what are you going to do about it little Prybach?' Tawn descended into throaty chuckle for what seemed the thousandth time. Vesta had a hunch that the brute was getting a little stir-crazy as the hours; failing to pass by in the cramped confines of the windowless room, instead hung heavily in the air. Stacking end on end and filling up the already suffocating atmosphere. Vesta had been keeping track of Tawn's mood and decided that now, with the brute's jovial face looming mocking over her, it was time for a reply.

She answered his taunt with a well-practiced flick of her head which saw her thick braid arch through the air between them and slap him fair across the face. Tawn's laughter was ceased, as the surprise choked it off. Now the other two heretics took the opportunity to chuckle at the stunned look on his immense bull-like features. The interrogation had not been going well for the interrogators.

Vesta on the other hand, had been carefully extracting details out of her captors for several hours. The humanoid-bull Tawn was quite clearly the muscle, being left to watch over Vesta whenever the other two, both more stag-humanoid in appearance, were occupied in earnest discussions outside the room. Tawn was never invited into these discussions, and the only thing Vesta could not tell for certain is whether this was because he was not interested in them, or that he wouldn't understand them. Either way, the big one was not her target. She needed answers and doubted the hulking brute knew more beyond his immediate orders at any given moment.

The scrawny one, Draig, she had heard him be addressed by the robed figure. He was the one she had encountered giving his sermon days before in the dive. The one she had been tailing before she ended up here. He was certainly her target initially but; there was something a little too breezy about him. He joked; and leaned a little too much. The scars on his face did little to hide the youthful fire in his eyes. And she could not help but recall his abysmal performance as an orator the night they first crossed paths. Enthusiastic yes, but no leader.

The robed figure that appeared last was more sombre than the other two, he had the serious, humourless air that came with power. They had been careful not to address him by name at all, not in front of Vesta at least. He had commanded the attention of Draig and lead the way whenever the two marched in or out of the room. Admittedly, it wasn't much to go on. But it would have to be enough. There was no way of knowing how long she had been trapped here. If Dali had succeeded in her mission at the Castra Vigile by now. Or worse, what if she was in trouble? It was time to make her move. She cocked her head to the side once more.

Tawn's features turned a purple shade of furious as a second flick of Vesta's hair caught him on the opposite check. The younger heretic was in hysterics. Grappling with his midsection and gasping for breath 'Tawn, your face!' The robbed figure rubbed a collection of slender blue fingers across his brow. Embarrassed by both his comrades it seemed.

Vesta twisted her neck for a third strike. This time it was caught in the enraged Tawn's sinewy fist. Just shy of his vein-latticed face. He jerked on his catch, pulling Vesta's head painfully as he knotted his thick fingers through it.

'You move again little Prybach and I will tear this pretty tail of yours off!' He snarled, showing his thick bovine teeth and pulling ever tighter on Vesta's braid so that she had to wince her reply.

'..arrg...I...hoped...you'd...say...that...' With an imperceptible motion, Vesta flexed the muscles of her left ear, triggering a controlled electrical discharge through the fine wires Dali had laced within her elaborate braid.

'Gggggrrrrrrr!!' Tawn's entire body convulsed before collapsing forward onto Vesta throwing them both to the ground and destroying the chair beneath her.